


Paint yourself a face to wear

by orphan_account



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Angst, Dragon!Steve, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, blue matter poisoning, cross-dimensional biology can lead to complications
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-23
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:06:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1223980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it turned out, blue matter poisoning wasn't a great deal of fun.<br/>Not that the others needed to know that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint yourself a face to wear

Every morning, Steve Negrete woke up tired. 

He rolled out of bed, ignoring the aches and pains in his bones and trying his best to avoid looking in the mirror. Instead he grabbed one of his bandannas and knotted it around the back of his neck. There, that was the roots covered up... turning to look at himself in the mirror for the first time that morning, he winced.

It was worse than it had been only the day before. The effects grew more and more noticeable every time he looked, and it became ever more difficult to discreetly conceal the symptoms. Pale skin, blue roots appearing in the hair, a blue tinge to the lips... blue matter had a marked effect on those who came into direct contact with it. 

Which, you know, technically he hadn't. He'd never even _seen_ raw blue matter, let alone come into contact with it. But human appearance didn't equal human biology, and the thick scaly  hide which would usually protect him from radiation was replaced with soft pink skin. Add in a job working with three automatons powered by the stuff, in a manor with reality-warping levels of background blue matter radiation... he didn't  have a chance.

As it turned out, blue matter poisoning wasn't a great deal of fun.

Not that the others needed to know that. So. Matte lipstick in a natural-looking shade of pink, with any hint of shine explained away as vaseline. Foundation to give colour back to his face, blush to add a faint flush to his cheeks. Eyeliner made the shadows under his eyes seem more artificial (though the concealer lightened them a little), and drew away from the threads of blue corrupting dark eyes. Sunglasses too, whenever he could get away with it. Pale hands were blamed on poor circulation, and he'd begun wearing long sleeves.

And so, half an hour after waking up, Steve would leave his room with a healthy face carefully painted on over the real one, and a wide grin for his friends.

Nobody had noticed yet.

* * *

It was a warm day, in the hottest July Steve could remember. Though when he mentioned this aloud Rabbit barked out her machine-gun rattle of a laugh and shook her head. "This? Th-this is nothin', you shoulda been there back in 1903--"

"Uh, I think you mean 1933 Rabbit," Hatchworth corrected, looking up from his book.

"1923, wasn't it?" The Spine added from the other room, poking his head around the door for a moment before disappearing back into the kitchen. 

"I think what they're sayin' is it gets r-r-really hot kinda often."

Steve shrugged, sprawled bonelessly in his armchair by the window, soaking up the sunlight like a cat. "This is pretty great though, right?" And it really was; he felt warm for the first time in months, so much so that he was nearly purring like a cat. Winter was hard on him, especially since he'd lost weight, and the sunlight was bliss.

"Yeah," Rabbit allowed, voice soft, and just wrong enough that Steve opened his eyes again, turning to see what was up with her. She was gazing at him with an odd expression on her face, and he shifted uneasily. 

"You ok, Rabbit?" he prompted. "Only you're looking kind of funny there."

The automaton shrugged. "I'm fine." Photoreceptors narrowed slightly. "You ain't, though."

Hatchworth's head snapped round. "We're doing this now, Rabbit?" 

"May as well," The Spine offered, entering the room. "It's a nice day and we've got him alone."

Steve drew in a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second, before huffing out a sigh. "I thought I'd been better at hiding it than that," he admitted, choosing to look out of the window instead of meeting the threefold glowing gaze directed his way. "What did I miss?"

"You didn't miss anything, don't panic. We just have far superior eyesight to you, and the makeup can't cover everything 100%. It's not obvious, though." The Spine cut in smoothly.

"A-anyway, we've been around for four generations of Walter teenagers. We're pretty good at telling when somebody's hiding something." 

"You move slower, more carefully than you used to. There's a slight tremble in your left hand, and you're thinner than before." Hatchworth sounded a little hesitant. "Lots of little things that say 'something is wrong'."

Steve caved, turning to look at the siblings. Hatchworth reached out and patted his hand in reassurance. "It's ok," he told the engineer. "We won't tell anyone if you don't want us to."

"Though if you want to talk about it, we're happy to do so," The Spine offered, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Venting can help a lot."

The human sighed again, dropping his head into his hands. "I... yeah, alright. Why not?" He shrugged. "I... well, I'm dying. Which you damn well knew, so don't bother looking surprised. My body can't handle the levels of blue matter saturation you guys generate, or this house."

He risked a look up, and saw the robots' faces, optics wide. Rabbit's hands were fisted in the fabric of her skirt, twisting and crumpling the black silk. The Spine kept his face carefully blank, his shoulders stiff, and Hatchworth just looked devastated. The bronze robot seemed to have shrunk in the past few seconds.

"...Oh" he breathed. "I take it you... didn't know _that_ part of it, then."

"I... w-w-we-we're supposed to have shielding on our cores so we don't hurt anyone." Twist. "Is there a crack or something?" Her shoulders were shaking slightly. "They're - I'm meant to be _safe_. Last time..." The Spine laid a hand on Rabbit's shoulder to steady her.

Steve shook his head quickly. "You're fine, your shielding's plenty thick. I'm just a bit... sensitive is all. It probably doesn't help that I'm absorbing a dragon-sized dose into a human sized body, without any human resistance." He shrugged. 

"You should leave," The Spine stated coolly, sensible as ever, and Steve snorted.

"Bit late now. A year or two ago, that might have done it, but now it's just a choice between dying slowly all by myself or more quickly with my friends. Sorry, but the first option sucks."

Without warning, Hatchworth lunged forward and pulled him into a hug. "I am sorry, friend Steve, that we've made you ill. But I'm glad you're going to stay with us." His voice was muffled, but the sentiment was honest.

After a moment, Steve wrapped his arms around the robot in return. "It's ok, Hatchy, don't worry about it."

Rabbit joined him in the hug, and The Spine too (after a moment's hesitation), until Steve was encased in an armour of gently humming machinery. Warm metal in the sunlight, and the faint scent of oil lingering on around him. Gentle murmurs of _'C'mon, Steve...'_ and _'It's g-gonna be ok, b-b-buddy',_ and careful arms holding him close. He inhaled, resting his forehead against smooth bronze, and then exhaled with a smile. 

Suddenly the future seemed a lot easier to face, with his friends behind him.


End file.
